


Fallin' Leaves Are Made For Fallin' In

by Selly87



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Established Relationship, Fluff, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts, M/M, Nonsense, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Harry Potter, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 03:23:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17738063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selly87/pseuds/Selly87
Summary: “Oops,” Draco giggled drunkenly, threw his arm around Harry’s shoulder, stumbled and Harry found himself tumbling forward into a very large pile of fallen autumn leaves.





	Fallin' Leaves Are Made For Fallin' In

**Author's Note:**

> I was working on my multi-chapter long shot when Jake Owen's "Made For You" came on and I had a vague idea for a piece of fluff. When I actually looked at the lyrics, my brain fixed on one line of the song and produced something entirely different.

“Oops,” Draco giggled drunkenly, threw his arm around Harry’s shoulder, stumbled and Harry found himself tumbling forward into a very large pile of fallen autumn leaves.

“Fuck’s sake, Malfoy,” Harry grumbled but there was no bite to his bark. He hiccupped and tried to get back onto his feet. His hand slipped on a leaf and landed right on top of Draco, again.

Draco giggled. Harry stared down at him. His glazed-over eyes were unfocused, his pupils blown wide, his face flushed and his lips parted. Harry traced them with his index finger and Draco stopped giggling.

He stared up at him for several minutes, then licked his lips suggestively.

Harry groaned and made another attempt at getting back onto his feet.

He failed.

“Are we going to have sex now?” Draco asked in all earnest and Harry rolled his eyes mockingly.

“You’re three sheets to the wind, I doubt you could get it up.”

“For you, Potter, I’ll always get it up,” Draco dropped his voice down to a husky drawl and Harry couldn’t help but laugh. Ordinarily, he found Draco’s sexy voice a turn on but he, too, had had a few too many and highly doubted that he had it in him to concentrate long enough to direct blood flow into his nether regions.

“Are you sure you want me to shag you right here in the courtyard where anyone could see us?” Harry asked.

“If anyone is going to be doing any shagging, Potter, it’ll be _me_ shagging _you_.”

“Is that so?” Harry grinned lopsidedly. “Be my guest then, Malfoy. But I’m still not going to do it in plain sight of the students or the entire teaching body. You’ll have to pleasure yourself, because I’m going inside and to bed. And if you lose your job over this, then it’s on your head, not mine.”

This time Harry managed to steady himself long enough to sit back on his haunches. He hauled Draco into a sitting position and grabbing a fistful of dried leaves, he let them rain over Draco’s head. Draco growled and glared daggers but because he still had trouble focusing his icy Slytherin stare was more of a crooked arrow Cupid’s stare.

“Potter, how is it that you’re still such a complete imbecile? I swear, you do my head in,” Draco groaned. “There are charms for that. What do you teach your students in DADA? Finding places to hide until the big scary wizard forfeits the duel on grounds of exhaustion?”

“If it works? I teach them more important things than you’ll ever teach them in your pathetic little cooking class down in the dungeons,” Harry laughed loudly and let himself fall sideways when Draco went to punch him in the shoulder. “Missed, Malfoy, as usual. Quidditch just isn’t your forte.”

“Fuck you!”

“As I said be my guest, but let’s go upstairs,” Harry grinned and moved back into a sitting position. He made a third attempt to scramble to his feet and succeeded, then offered Draco a helping hand. Draco slapped it away and glowered.

“Potions is a refined and delicate art you’ll never understand, Potter,” he growled and got back onto his feet without assistance. “You teach kids how to vanquish a Boggart and call it Defence Against The Dark Arts, _lame_.”

Harry was just about to make a scathing remark but lost the nerve to do when a very familiar Scottish accent cut through the quiet of the night.

“Professor Malfoy! Professor Potter! Please tell me there is a reason that you both feel the need to discuss the merits and flaws of your respective subjects in the courtyard at two am in the morning!” the headmistress snapped and Harry instantly felt like he was a scared eleven-year-old first-year rather than a 32-year-old DADA professor.

“Minerva, darling, we’re ever so sorry for waking you,” Draco apologised in his sweetest sing-song voice, then hiccupped and burped. “I’m sorry, Mini, bit too much Firewhiskey tonight,” he giggled.

Harry shuddered, closed his eyes, and dispatched a silent prayer to whomever was listening.

“Professor Malfoy, you are drunk!”

“Cunning deductive skills, Mini, you make a fine headmistress. Hogwarts would be lost without you at the helm,” Draco giggled some more and Harry fervently hoped that the ground would just split open and swallow him whole. Surely there was spell for such occasions…

“Harry?” Minerva McGonagall turned to him and fixed him with a stern glare that made his mouth run dry and his hands shake.

“We may have lost track of time for a while tonight, I’m sorry,” he admitted quietly and wondered whether sinking to his knees and pleading for forgiveness would get him back into the headmistress’ good books. He doubted it. He was also fairly certain that if he was to take another tumble, he wouldn’t manage to get up again.

“Track of time?” Minerva questioned. “You are both sloshed and rolling around the grounds like a pair of crups in heat—”

“Oh, I’m in heat alright, Mini, but Potter won’t indulge me,” Draco whined and Harry groaned.

“Minerva, could I convince you to go back to bed and forget tonight ever happened?” he asked quietly, desperately trying to keep himself from blushing crimson-red. There was nothing more effective than Minerva McGonagall when it came to sobering up quickly. She had a sense of authority about her that was more effective than any sobering potion out there. Clearly, however, her skills did not work on Draco Malfoy, who was either feeling suicidal or trying to get himself fired in the most spectacular way.

Possibly both.

Harry sighed.

Minerva gave him a long, hard look. She pulled her checked Scottish throw tightly around her shoulders and looked most displeased.

“Puddlemere United lost against Holyhead Harpies,” Harry said though he was sure that Minerva wouldn’t accept that as a reason to get completely sauced on a school night. Harry dispatched another silent prayer to whomever was listening that Draco would not remember anything he had said to Minerva.

She continued to regard him with an expression that made Harry feel most uncomfortable but eventually her features softened marginally and she let out a sigh.

“Potter, take Professor Malfoy back to his quarters and make sure he sobers up before going to bed, lest he decides to wander the halls in search of a mate,” she said.

“I have a mate! He drives me to the brink of insanity daily but he’s a good one, I’m not going to go and search for another one, I promise,” Draco piped up and as he threw his arms around him, Harry flushed, coughed, and looked anywhere but at Minerva McGonagall.

“Ah, young love,” Minerva chuckled and turning on her heel, she walked off but turned around a few steps later. “Professor Potter, while I am fully aware of the nature of your relationship with Professor Malfoy, once he is sober enough to absorb the information, kindly inform him that there is no Disillusionment Charm strong enough to conceal two people who are engaged in the act of love making in public and if he has any concerns with regards to this information coming from a former Transfigurations Professor, he may consult with Professor Flitwick on the matter,” she said quietly and if Harry’s face perfectly matched the shade of his Head of Gryffindor House badge on his midnight blue overcoat.

“Certainly, Minerva,” Harry nodded and waited until she was out of earshot before he turned on Draco.

“Malfoy, you absolute arsehole, you could have gotten us both fired with what you said to her!” he snapped.

Draco merely rolled his eyes. “Oh Potter, untwist yourself, women love a drunken flirty gay man. We pose no threat, and my charm always gets me out of stick situations,” he giggled.

“I wonder if it also gets you out of a pair of shackles,” Harry growled and grabbing a fistful of Draco’s black overcoat, he unceremoniously dragged him into the castle and the direction of his private quarters.

“Depends who puts them on me, if you’re offering, I’d like to keep them on,” Draco teased and as he forced himself to take a deep breath, Harry wondered for the millionth whether he had lost his mind when had decided to leave the Auror Department to become a Professor at Hogwarts.


End file.
